Lasting Impressions
by Perfections-Cat
Summary: Actions, once made, cannot be erased, and as Sasuke knows all too well, they always come up just a moment too late.


They had been here before. Though the setting had changed and time had wrung its hands around their lives, they had seen this before.

_"...my last."_

He knew this. All too vividly did it now play across his mind. A whirlwind of all the ways it should have been, all the ways it was similar to that one moment in their lives. Sasuke flexed his fingers mechanically, winced as the movement swallowed another warm pulse of life. He cursed silently at the wrist constricted by sinew and bone. Not even at this moment, it seemed, would Naruto give him up.

This was not what he had had in mind. Yet, like much between them, their meeting steamrolled into something more than what it should have been. That was, perhaps, their greatest shortcoming: they never aptly solved any of their differences. Was this, then, the only way they could express themselves? Had they grown so apart, so consumed by their own desires?

His lips, still warm but quickly cooling in the winter air, parted with a light gasp. A frightened little expression that finally betrayed his so-called purpose in life. No, this wasn't what Sasuke had wanted at all.

* * *

He was hot, his cheeks flushed with exertion and something else that Sasuke was still too unsure of to name. But he was warm against him. Had this been at any other time, any other place, he might have felt differently. Instead, this was here and there were things done that he could no longer undo. And of all moments, Naruto had chosen this one to act.

It was fierce, but not rough. Sort of like Naruto himself, a bit raw and full of uncensored emotion. Had this been another moment, Sasuke felt sure he would have known only one emotion as well. Now, however, he was battered with wounded regret, and a flush of anger at the blond. Now of all times.

But, how he loved it as well. Naruto shifted, as much as he could, added more pressure as though wishing to imprint himself upon Sasuke's lips. He would have wanted that, to have had only that Naruto - that feeling, that taste - forever set into him.

Gradually though, the action weakened. Sasuke could feel Naruto's lips curving ever so slightly against his skin. How could he smile at a time like this? Why did he stop? Maybe if they just stayed like that...

"I stole your first..." Naruto breathed out against the right corner of his mouth. He paused. Sasuke could feel him gathering his strength, and closed his eyes as he heard the blond exhale heavily, the scent of copper on his breath.

There was a light chuckle, followed by another small application of pressure to his mouth, one which Sasuke hesitantly answered. Naruto coughed, and Sasuke noted with horror the darkness spilling out over the boy's lips.

"...you shall have my last."

"Dobe...!" The word scratched up out of his throat, came out with a sound that couldn't have possibly been his voice. More like a throttled nightingale still trying hopelessly to sing.

"Oi...don't look at me like that...". Paling lips curved into a faint smile. Sasuke flinched at the motion. He was certain that smiles weren't meant to be heartbreaking. "...it makes you look...quite beautiful, moron".

There was a sudden slackening, a dreadful pull of weight on his arm. Sasuke nearly cried out at the terrible way it rent his shoulder, outward then heavily downward. And then he felt his fingers gliding effortlessly out, nails digging into torn flesh as he tried to grab onto the falling body, only to be left with streaks of blood and tiny strips of muscle.

"Na…Naruto," he felt himself stutter. He had felt this before. Not at their last meeting, but way before that, when he was still young enough to be called innocent. "Don't…"

But there was no response. No "Don't what, jackass?". No "Shut up, Sasuke." Just the sullen snowfall and the crisp cuts of wind over his skin. His arm still floated out before him, droplets of blood clinging, then dropping from his fingertips. Clinging and dropping. Sasuke fell to his knees.

His gaze drifted slowly over the snowy ground, freckled red by their fight, towards the still form. He didn't want to look, didn't want to acknowledge his own actions. For the second time in his life, Sasuke screwed his eyes shut and pleaded desperately with the heavens. Reverse it. Take it all back. None of this can happen. None of this should have happened, so erase it from history. Through the tight line of his lashes, he could feel warmth trickling out only to freeze halfway down his cheeks.

Yet, he knew what would happen when he opened his eyes. And so, to stave off that, he remained there, letting his fingers dig helplessly into the snow. Dig until they hit dirt and stone, and tore flesh and drew blood. Several minutes later, Sasuke finally stopped as a stomach-twisting sob wrenched apart his lips.

He felt sick. Not in a violent sort of way, but sick as though someone were trying to suck the very life out of him, out of each and every cell. Sick as though his very essence were shrieking out in pain and wanted to expel whatever was draining him of himself. He knew all too well though, that nothing could carve that pain out of his soul. It would live with him, shadowing every smile, crawling into his dreams at night, reminding him endlessly in vivid detail. There was no point in throwing up; it resolved nothing in the end.

There was little point to anything at this moment. With that thought slowly working its way through his body, Sasuke found the strength to move, opening his eyes with a languid flicker of black lash. Nothing had changed, save for the dusting of white over his body. He knew only the foolish placed their hopes in Heaven, knew that there was no one there willing to answer the desires of the damned. His lips quivered in a scoffing gesture.

Sasuke reached out, letting his fingers trail along Naruto's forehead. Despite the cold, he was still warm. That unnerved him, angered him. Though he knew the biological reasons - bodies didn't just simply lose all heat immediately - he could not help but feel it was nothing more than a celestial practical joke. A way to fool the senses into believing there was life still.

_Then let me pretend._"Dobe..." he breathed out, lips brushing lightly over the bloodied skin, "...you could have at least waited to hear it."


End file.
